


It's Complicated

by trilliath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Happily Ever After, Infidelity, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Minor Angst, Pregnancy, Stiles Allison are Bros, Stilinski feels, Unplanned Pregnancy, Weddings, and unintentionally more, argent feels, but they and their respective werewolves get their shit together, lots of fluff, one big mistake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:31:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trilliath/pseuds/trilliath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On her thirteenth birthday, Hayley Argent finally gets her parents to explain how she came to be, and how they all ended up where they belonged in the end.<br/>From important choices to fights and tears, to moments of love. Allison, Stiles, Derek and Scott tell her, through a variety of memories about the complicated way their lives played out thirteen years and nine months ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Complicated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shmorgas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shmorgas/gifts).



"It's complicated sweetie," Allison says, smoothing her hands over her thirteen-year-old daughter's hair under her birthday crown while her younger siblings rampage around in the expansive back yard, playing an elaborate game of tag. 

"Oh come _on_ mom, what _isn't_ complicated about our lives?" she demands, waving a hand at the occasional werewolf pup darting around behind them and sounding remarkably like her father as she does so. "And you said you'd tell me when I was a teenager. I'm officially a teenager now."

Scott lifts his eyebrows at Allison. "She has a point."

Hayley, sensing her impending victory, beams at the four of them and marches back over to the open kitchen door to retrieve the photo album off the dining table which contained her history - some of which she hadn't been told the details of. Namely, her origin.

Stiles sighs. "You know, this story is impossible to tell without swearing."

"So swear," Derek says flatly.

Stiles poses his face in a theatrical parody of horror. Derek rolls his eyes, though his faint smirk belies his happiness. 

"No but there's really going to be a lot of swearing," Scott agrees. 

Allison rolls her eyes too. "She'll survive," she says, to which their daughter nods fervently.

"Okay," Hayley says, opening the album to the first page and splaying her fingers against the page which has a photo of Allison in a blue polka-dot spring dress, cradling her pregnant belly and grinning. "Tell me how this all started."

 

-o0o-

 

They stare at the ceiling. Because that's what you do when you're laying on your back after you've done something your brain can't even fathom. The silence is unbroken for a long time, just the soft huff of breath and slowing heart-beats. 

"Fuck." 

The word tumbles out of his mouth like an overflowing garden hose, catching on his teeth and lips and dribbling down his face to puddle at his throat. At least that's how it seems to her. That's how it seems like it would feel if she said anything. She twists her head to look over at him, her friend with his wide amber eyes and parted lips.

She swallows, still slightly buzzed from the very late night's tequila. Or had it been morning when they'd gotten there? Did it even matter? Then she takes a slow breath before making her own attempt at words. "Yeah. Pretty much."

They come easier than she'd expected. Still harder than most.

"They're still shitheads," he mutters, referencing that-which-had-started-this-whole-thing. Mostly it involved some stubborn werewolves. Some stubborn humans. And some stupidity all around.

A giddy, terrified feeling wells up in her throat. She claps fingers over her lips but the laugh gets caught in her throat anyway. Then she sits up, checking the neckline of her shirt. It's hardly out of place at all. She glances at him, then nods and turns her eyes skyward again and swallows before replying, "Yep. Only now we're all shitheads."

"Good point." He sighs out a shaky breath, then buttons his jeans and pulls his zipper back up. "Showers?"

"God yes, like a million each."

He swings his feet down and leans his palms on his knees, shoulders hunched. "And we should probably burn our clothes," he adds. 

"Good plan," she replies, tugging her panties back up under her skirt. 

"That's me," he says bitterly, "the king of good plans made exclusively to follow really, really horrible ones."

"Yeah," she whispers, getting off the bed.

 

-o0o-

 

An hour later he's just coming down the stairs when someone knocks on his front door and then opens it without so much as a by-your-leave. Which. Actually that's totally normal behavior from any of the wolves but mostly from the worst possible person that could be showing up right at this moment.

Worst. Maybe second worst. No. Yeah. Either way he was probably about to die. He tries to stifle the grimace as his head clears the gap and he spots the entrant.

"Hi. Um. Hey. Scott. Buddy. How's it, uh - how're things?" Stiles says, jerking back a step into the house, hopefully out of range of Scott's nose. Scott just gives him a weird look and steps into the hallway. Stiles isn't about to take any chances, slipping past him and continuing away into the kitchen. Also, probably not-so-surreptitiously making for the back door.

"Fine I guess. Hey, have you seen-," 

"How many showers does it take to get the scent of sex off?" Allison shouts down from upstairs through the cracked bathroom door.

"Um."

"What?"

"Uhm…" Stiles stares back at him. Then he swears under his breath and bolts.

Stiles makes it halfway through the backyard before Scott tackles him.

Okay. Maybe more like three feet.

He doesn't fight at first. A guy who had sex with his best-friend's girlfriend, no matter how emotion and tequila-fueled it may have been, deserves a pounding. But when Scott's punches start to include claws, he realizes he shouldn't have used human schemas in his decision-making process about the whole defending himself thing. He starts to fight back, tries to scramble away, but it's too late. The last thing he sees before he passes out is Allison, still half-naked and wet and barefoot, tackling Scott full force as she begs him to stop.

 

-o0o-

 

Dealing with Derek ends up being worse. He avoids him. At first he thinks he can manage it until the worst of the stuff heals. But he decides that it's stupid and implausible really because, broken arm here. And besides. He wouldn't want their fight to turn into a why-were-we-even-dating type of distance. Well. At least not just because Stiles was avoiding him. He was fairly certain that the _reason_ he was avoiding Derek was going to be a much bigger problem. But he tries to wait until the worst bruises fade. It even works for a few days.

Until it doesn't. Because despite everything, despite their bitter argument that had started this whole thing, and Derek's own healing wounds, and the space they'd been mutually taking since the argument, Derek checks on him, peeks through his window in the night to check on him.

And of course it all goes to hell fast. The slamming window, the furious, protective snarl. The undignified squawk as Stiles tumbles out of bed, followed by the groans of pain as the bruises and cast-clad arm hit the ground. The loud demands for "Who did this!" and Stiles's protestations that he's fine. And then, even more unfortunately, moments later the door banging open and the Sheriff arriving, clad only in boxers and service issue pistol. 

After some flailing on Stiles's part, the pistol gets lowered, and Derek's fangs retracted, but the situation is hardly dealt with.

"Who did this?" Derek demands again, voice lethal and flat. "Tell me so I can go-"

"Whoa there, easy on the threat-making," the Sheriff interrupts, still somehow managing to wear the mantle of his office even in his underwear.

And then Stiles is insisting "It's my fault okay? In fact, you're probably going to want to kill _me_ instead of Scott when I tell- hey! Derek! Stop!" he demands as Derek makes for the window. They'd fucking tear each other to pieces, both of them too stubborn to stop and figure out why they were fighting before it was all horribly wrong. He has to do something, so he does the only thing he can. 

"I had sex with Allison," he shouts as Derek ducks his head to jump out. He freezes. Honest to god stops dead in his tracks, foot halfway in the air. Then he straightens. Stiles is suddenly glad his Dad is there, despite the humiliation. Even though he's fucking pissed at himself and therefore totally understand that Derek will be pissed with him, he really doesn't want to die. He steels himself for the fury he expects to see in Derek's eyes when he turns.

But it's worse, it's so, so much worse because there's only pain when Derek gazes at him. Only loss as he takes a step back towards the corner, shrinking as he shakes his head. His shoulders sag like he's collapsing in on himself under some great weight as he leans against the wall. And worst of all, he doesn't look surprised. He just looks resigned. 

He nods once. Twice. Like he'd been expecting it all along. Then he turns and heads for the window again. Walking out this time. Stiles knows that look. He can't let Derek leave with that look on his face. He can't let Derek _leave_

It was a mistake. It was a stupid fucking mistake. I'm so sorry.

He says it all, over and over again, holding onto Derek's wrist with his good hand with every ounce of strength he can muster. He doesn't even know what's coming out of his mouth anymore but it's probably begging. Or the only words that matter. 

I love you. 

He says it again and again and somehow it makes a difference. Derek could easily break his grip but he doesn't. He lets Stiles hold onto him. Lets Stiles keep him from walking away. Lets him pull him down onto the carpet and burrow in against his chest. 

Lets him anchor Derek there.

His father lets them stay like that for the rest of the night.

 

-o0o-

 

"Fuck!" she hisses, flicking the little plastic stick across the room to bounce off the door of her closet.

He stares at her, face grim. It's unmistakable, what it means. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she repeats, chucking the second and third sticks, each with more force.

Then he bites his lips closed, glancing away with a flick of eyelashes. He plasters a hand over his mouth trying to stifle the hysterical snicker welling up in his throat. She raises a questioning eyebrow at him, scowling.

"How can you possibly see anything funny about this?" she demands. 

"No I'm sorry. It's just. 'Fuck'… it's, that single word pretty much sums all of this up, doesn't it?"

She laughs in one short bark, hands coming up to cover her mouth as she stares at him, wide-eyed. And then she's fighting to stifle the terrible laughter welling up. "It can be our mantra. I'm going to… when. Oh god when I'm _pushing_. It will be my _word_."

Then they're laughing. Both laughing so hard till they're nearly falling over. Till they _are_ falling over. Till he is choking on his laugh, wiping tears from his eyes and she's huffing out gasping laughs, hands pressed to her belly. Till they both feel sick, just begging their bodies to stop, to let them breathe again. 

Till her Dad is knocking on the door and asking "Allison, is everything okay?"

And then they're abruptly not laughing anymore at all.

"When did he get home?" she hisses at him like he'd know.

He makes a face at her, because yeah. No super werewolf hearing here. 

"Fine Dad," she squeaks.

"He has so many guns," Stiles whispers to himself. 

"Okay…," Chris says skeptically, then pauses. They both stare at each other in horror. "Well, I brought home In-N-Out, so…"

"'Kay. Thanks. Maybe later."

There's another long pause, then they just listen to the sound of his retreating footsteps. And the empty, cold echo of where the hysterical laughter had just been. And the sick feelings in their stomachs.

"Oh god. Stiles, what are we going to do?" she whispers, staring down at her abdomen.

"I have no fucking idea."

They sit in silence for a long while, then Stiles takes a slow breath. "So. Maybe the first thing is to go to the doctor and get everything checked out?"

She nods slowly, then more firmly. "Yeah. Yeah, okay, that's a good plan."

"And," she continues after a moment. "And talk about options maybe. You and me."

"Yeah," Stiles says, eyes wide. "Good. Talking is a good plan. But I mean, you should know, Allison, I should say this right now. I'm with you on this, no matter what you decide, okay?"

"Okay," she whispers.

He fiddles with the edge of the pregnancy-test box. "Do you…"

"I don't know," she blurts, shoving a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't know." 

"Okay. Right, of course, how could you? Sorry."

"No it's…," she falters. Because it's definitely not nothing.

It's huge. It's so huge she can't even say the words in her head. 

They sit there a while. Then he reaches out and offers his hand. She takes it, squeezing it tight for a long moment before she releases it. "You know what I _do_ know though? I definitely know that I want In-N-Out burgers," she says, putting a grin on her face.

He shakes his head with a laugh. "Obviously. I should probably go then."

"Yeah," she says as he pushes to his feet and heads for the window. 

"Call you tomorrow?" he suggests as he draws the shades again.

She tilts her head. "You know, I know we're all total pros at using windows now, but… you could use the front door. Friends can do that."

He laughs as he drifts to a halt. "Oh. Right."

She bites her lip, then glances down at her abdomen. "And, uh. You know, he might as well get used to seeing you since you're probably going to be around more."

"Right," he says again, following her gaze to her belly, then nodding slowly as he drifts back towards her. Not laughing anymore. He glances at her bedroom door, fingers tapping against his thighs nervously. Then he looks down at the pregnancy test sitting on the floor between them where it had ricocheted to. 

"I'm _definitely_ going out the window."

"Totally," she blurts, already surging forward to drag it open.

 

-o0o-

 

A few weeks later she knows. 

And because they really _don't_ use front doors anymore, eventually she shows up on Scott's rooftop. Just waiting there, curled into a ball till he gets home from lacrosse practice.

"Hey," he says softly when he sees her, face curling into that sweet smile she loves so much. 

"Hey," she replies, tucking her hair back over her ear and trying to smile back.

It amazes her, still just blows her mind that despite everything he smiles at her and crawls out his window to sit beside her without question, hair still damp from the locker-room shower.

It's still such a mess in her head, all the things she's put him through, all the things about him that drive her to distraction. All the things that have happened in her life, her universe this past year and a half. All the things she feels for him, despite all of that. All the things she feels because she's still just eighteen.

He doesn't say anything, just sits next to her.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

He shakes his head, then tips his cheek down on her biceps, nuzzling her softly. "Forgiven. I thought we'd gotten past that."

She takes a shaky breath. "It's more complicated than that."

"So that's why you've been avoiding me lately?" he asks, continuing to lean his face on her, to breathe in her scent.

"Yeah."

He sighs, smiling faintly and rubbing his hand across her back. "You smell different," he says. He says it with mild interest. Like it's not something huge. Because he doesn't know better. He doesn't know it's world-shaking for both of them.

"Yeah," she agrees. "I bet I do."

He nods slowly, thinking it over. "It's nice. Really nice. It's… familiar, almost like," he says, dragging in her scent again with more determination. She blinks hard against tears. Then he looks up at her, eyes widening slightly. "Oh. I… Allison…," he murmurs, arms going tight around her as he pulls her close. "Okay. It's okay," he murmurs as the tears spill over. "We're okay." He tucks her head against his shoulder, smoothing a hand over her curls.

"I'm pregnant," she whispers against his shoulder anyway.

"I know," he says.

"It happened when Stiles and I…," she murmurs. 

There hadn't been anyone else. The whole thing had happened in part because she had been taking space from Scott again over her independence. That was why she'd been there to lend such a furiously sympathetic ear when Stiles had needed to vent over the latest argument with Derek and Scott. An argument that was the only fight that put them consistently on those teams; the wolves and their overprotectiveness over the poor-fragile-little-humans. None of them had dealt with it well. 

He takes a slow breath, then nods, pressing his lips to her hair for a moment. "I figured. Does he know?"

She nods silently, tears soaking into his shirt.

"Okay," he murmurs. "It's okay".

"I'm eighteen and I'm having a baby and it's…," she chokes back a sniffle. "It's not even _your_ baby," she whispers.

"Yeah," he says softly. "Yeah I know. But it is my _family_. Stiles is my brother. And you…"

He kisses her temple. Her cheek. The tip of her nose when she turns her face up to him. Then he brushes his lips over hers softly. "You're part of my heart."

She stares up at him, eyes wide, blinking back tears. She lifts a hand to brush his hair back over his ear. He lifts her a little, shifting them so that they can lay back against the roof and look up at the stars, cradling her head on his arm. They stay that way a while, watching the clouds drift between them and the stars and crescent moon.

"I'm having the baby. I'm keeping it," she says suddenly after a while. Clears her throat. "I decided today."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He blows out a big breath. "Okay. So… congratulations," he says, squeezing her waist and she laughs, voice wet with remaining tears.

"Yeah, I guess so," she replies softly.

"I mean, Allison, you're going to have a _baby_! It's just… it's amazing. You're amazing. You're going to be a _mom_. And you're going to be great," he says, burrowing his face in her hair, his breath tickling against her ear.

"Oh god I hope so."

"You will be. I know it. Because you're awesome at everything. You can handle anything."

She reaches down to twine her fingers with his, taking comfort in a faith she still can't quite believe he holds in her. She takes comfort in love.

"Also, you smell _amazing_ ," he murmurs, rubbing his nose along her jawline.

"Yeah?" she asks, voice going warm and low. "You think so?"

"Mhmm..."

 

-o0o-

 

He paces his room for about half an hour, popping his phone out of his pocket every few laps to re-read the message.

But there was no point in putting it off. Allison had told Scott last night, and that meant the damn had been broken. It was time to start telling people. 

People like his Dad. 

He was going to go and tell his dad that _he_ was about to become a dad. Better to do it now, like tearing off a band-aid. At least that is what he tells himself. Repeatedly. Until he believes it enough to stop pacing and march downstairs to the kitchen. Although he almost turns around when he realizes a Saturday morning means his Dad will be around for a whole weekend of awkward!sauce supreme.

But he's moving forward now. That's it. He focuses on the simple things. Stair steps one at a time. Getting the glasses from the cupboard. Not walking into anything and avoiding making a mess. There is already plenty of mess to go around.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles marches into the dining room and sits down hard next to his dad at the table. The move draws his dad's idly interested gaze over the tops of his reading glasses. That gaze sharpens as Stiles sets the whiskey and the two glasses on the table and spins the cap off the bottle, metallic sound loud in the quiet room. Stiles silently pours a finger in each, then knocks his back immediately before pouring another.

"Stiles!" his dad says, flabbergasted.

"Trust me," Stiles says, voice scratching a little on the residual burn of the alcohol. "You are not going to begrudge me that in a few minutes."

The Sheriff sighs, closing the case file he'd been going over and setting it aside. "Am I going to want to drink that before you explain?"

Stiles casts a withering look at him and the Sheriff turns his gaze skyward. 

"Right. Stupid question," he says, then takes his glass and tips the whiskey down his throat. He takes a deep breath and sighs it out carefully before he sets his glass down, like he's preparing himself to look at his son, bracing himself for whatever news was coming. Stiles pours more into his dad's glass, and then his own, having already squirreled away the second shot in the meantime.

"So, what's the news," the Sheriff says, folding his hands on the table. And then he waits.

Stiles drums his fingers on the table for a moment, then sits up straight and sniffs, swiping a hand over his face. Then he takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. "Well Dad, the news is… well it's not really so bad. Once you get used to it. Not that I'm really used to it actually. Do you ever get used to something like this?"

His dad's face contorts into the expression that says Stiles is causing him pain. Not a good start. 

"Right," he says, taking a deep breath and folding his hands on the table too. Band-aids. "So, uh. Dad. Here it is. You're going to be a grandparent," Stiles says. "Allison's pregnant, and she's decided to have the baby. That's it. That's the news."

His dad sits back in his chair, closing his eyes and swiping a hand over his face. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head slowly. Takes another breath. Then another, still staring at nothing as he processes.

Slowly he folds his arms loosely at his waist. "Well, Son. That's…," he falters, taking another deep breath as his eyebrows go up and he tilts his head. "It's certainly some news."

Stiles realizes he's holding his breath, and sighs it out, clenching his hands against the trembling feeling the situation is evoking. There's so much to say and then at the same time nothing else besides the single sentence he's already said. But there are things. Things important to his dad. Things Stiles has been thinking about these past few weeks with a completely different perspective than he ever had before. 

"I know you wanted me to go to college but… I guess plans change, right? I mean, I don't even know what I would have studied, really. Maybe sometime down the road but, right now I should… I think it would be better if I got a job. I've got…," he clears his throat. "I'm going to have a _family_ to support. I mean, okay yeah, Allison's probably going to marry Scott and there's a lot of stuff that's in the air but… Allison and I haven't worked out the details or anything, and I, god, I have no idea what I'm doing. But. I should get a job. Just in case, right? That's the thing I should do."

"You're right," his father says when he finally tapers off. "I'm not going to begrudge you that drink," he says with a tilt of his head and a lift of his eyebrows followed by reaching for his glass again. "And the rest?" He holds it a moment, then lifts it in Stiles's direction. "To a happy and healthy… grandbaby," he offers in toast.

Stiles blinks hard a few times, then grabs his glass too. "Happy and healthy," Stiles repeats, clicking their glasses together.

Then the Sheriff puts a broad hand on a surprisingly broad shoulder and they both tip back their liquor, and savor the burn on long breaths.

"Deputy's exam's coming up. Maybe I can loan you my copy of the manual. If you want."

"I'd like that." 

 

-o0o-

 

She goes directly to Derek herself. She sometimes thinks he accepts things more easily when he's able to process them through his werewolf side instead of having to talk it all out. Stiles would talk. Maybe he would talk too much.

Allison doesn't even talk at all. She just sits down in his living-room and waits. 

He sits across from her, gazing at her silently. Assessingly. He hadn't shut the door in her face, so there was at least that. Things had never been easy between them, and for good reason. And that hadn't gotten any better recently. In fact, now he had plenty of reason to be angry at her again.

But he hadn't turned her away. There were leadership qualities there that others didn't always notice. Ones that she suspected Derek didn't always know he had. His ability to listen was another.

They stay that way, staring at each other a long time. Long enough she sees the recognition filter through his mask, the surprise, subtle though its expression may be.

"It isn't Scott's," he says abruptly.

"No," she agrees, tugging at the hem of her sleeve.

He sits back slowly, face an arrogant, impenetrable mask. "It's not a wolf's. Whose is it then?"

She glares at him. "You know damn well-"

"What do I know Allison? The only thing I know is that you and Stiles…," he trails off, looking away. The muscles in his jaw work as he takes a slow breath. "But you? I don't know about you."

She nods slowly, tamping down her anger. "That's… that's fair enough I guess." But she clears her throat, shaking her head. "But there wasn't anyone. Even with Stiles it was… we made one mistake. Just a dumb mistake between friends. That's it."

He lifts an eyebrow at her, face still tight with cynical skepticism.

"We were upset. God, Derek, he was so damn _worried_ about you. And with good reason! How many days did it take you to fully heal that time? Five? A week?"

He just glares at the wall. 

"Both of us were so damn angry at you and Scott. And not just for that. For all the times you try and keep us out of the loop, all the times you put yourselves in danger and try to keep us from helping you. Do you even understand how frustrating that is for us? That not only do you refuse to make use of our skills, you actively shove us aside? And we were scared. When you and Scott do that, you leave us scared and alone and deprive us of our ability to do anything about it."

He just stares at her. He doesn't say anything, just sits there with his forearms on his thighs, hands dangling between his legs.

"So we vented. I shouldn't have brought the tequila but I did and things got out of hand. So if you want to blame someone, blame me."

"I do blame you," he says curtly.

She swallows hard, nodding in understanding. She'd been there, after all. "Okay. I can live with that. But it's not going to be just me, because the baby-"

"But maybe I blame myself too," he interrupts, staring at the floor between his feet. "And Scott and Stiles. We all have parts in this."

Allison sits back. "It's not like any of us really know what we're doing. We're all just trying to do our best." 

He sighs and lifts his eyebrows in agreement as he slowly sits back again. Then abruptly, his gaze sharpens on the entryway. A moment later there's the sound of the door being unlocked, then swinging open and bouncing slightly against the wall.

"Derek, you here? I need to talk to you." Stiles calls from the front hall.

He sounds nervous. Understandable.

Derek stands and slips past her to where Stiles will be able to see him.

"Oh. There you are. Um. Hey," Stiles says as he walks into the room, hands wrapped together against his chest. Then he catches sight of her and his face pales. "Oh."

Derek just continues to approach Stiles, drawing his attention back sharply again.

Stiles's fingers twist together against his chest, eyes wide as he speaks. "Did she… I mean, what have you… exactly. I meant to… Did you - damnit…," he falters when Derek stops abruptly a foot from him. He presses his lips closed against the disjointed word-vomit and takes a sharp breath through his nose as he stares at his boyfriend. 

Derek just stares back. "You're afraid of me," Derek says, softer than she's ever heard it. He steps back from Stiles half a pace, shoulders drifting down.

Stiles tips his chin up and drops his hands, nerves forgotten in indignation. "I am _not_ afraid of you."

"Stiles, I can smell it," he counters. 

"Yeah. I'm terrified of _losing_ you," Stiles says, moving forward and curling his fingers into Derek's shirt like he can hold onto him by a stretch of cotton. Or perhaps sheer force of will. "I'm terrified because I'm having a _baby_."

Derek lifts a hand slowly to cover the hand on his chest. For a moment Allison is afraid he's going to tear it away, break the connection between them. But his hand just tightens, keeping Stiles there against his heart. Derek closes his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. And then Stiles lifts his other hand to curl around Derek's neck, to brush his thumb against the dark stubble on Derek's face. Derek leans into the touch.

It's good. And private. Allison gets up and quietly makes her way out the front door. Maybe Stiles's words were exactly what Derek needed after all.

 

-o0o-

 

It's decided that Scott is going to have to wait outside her house. It's not that she doesn't want her father to see that he's going to stand by her. It's that there are some things a born hunter would have trouble with, no matter how enlightened. Seeing his daughter's werewolf boyfriend beside her when she says the dreaded "I'm pregnant" was one of them.

So Scott's going to wait outside. And Stiles is going to go in. Although he's not any less aware of Chris Argent's affection for guns. It makes sense, but Stiles can tell Scott doesn't like it. It takes a while before he even lets go of Allison's hands. 

"We'll be fine, Scott, I promise," Allison says.

"I should be there to protect you," he argues, curling his fingers into his palms like he's resisting wrapping them around Allison's again.

"Look, I know I'm not all super-strength and whatever like you," Stiles says, bringing his best-friend's eyes grudgingly his way. "But I'm not nothing. Allison's not nothing. She'll be okay," he says firmly.

Scott eyes him a long moment, then nods sharply, dumping tousled hair over his forehead as he turns and strides away again from the front door. 

It's strange seeing Chris in such seemingly normal circumstances, just sitting in his living room with a book. Not a gun or a car battery in sight.

"Stiles, good to see you," he says good-naturedly. "You two have a homework assignment? Or just hanging out?"

"Dad, we need to talk to you," Allison says, chin held at an angle that says she's putting her brave face on - something her father recognizes just as easily as Stiles does. 

The pleasant expression on Chris Argent's face fades immediately. He closes his book and gestures at the couch opposite him.

They sit, Allison curling her legs under her and Stiles more stiffly, rubbing his hands on his thighs nervously before Allison puts one of hers on his wrist. He looks up at her and she smiles gently. After a moment he returns it, and then she squeezes his hand and turns her gaze to her father.

She takes a deep breath. "Dad, I'm not going to drag this out."

"That's best," Chris agrees, face a neutral mask.

"Several weeks ago Stiles and I made a mistake," she says in a matter-of-fact tone. She glances at Stiles and exchanges a tight smile with him before she turns her gaze back to her father, chin up, hand shaking against Stiles's arm. "We had unprotected sex, and now I'm pregnant."

Chris says nothing, just gazes at her, then Stiles with those disconcerting blue eyes.

Allison clears her throat and bobs her head as she continues. "I've been to the doctor and so far everything seems to be fine. Stiles and I have discussed it and I have decided that I'm going to keep the baby."

Her father sits back slowly, scrubbing a hand over his stubble. Then he cocks his head and says, "Okay."

There's silence for a long moment.

"Okay?" Stiles blurts.

"Okay," Chris replies calmly.

"I just…," Allison begins, flicking a confused glance at Stiles and pushing her hair back as she looks at her father. "I thought you'd be more upset."

Chris smiles faintly at them. "Allison, if there's anything life has taught me, especially recently, it is that surprises are around every bend. And this? Maybe it's not what I had hoped for, but it's hardly the worst sort of surprise."

She nods slowly, blinking back tears as she glances away. Yeah. It doesn't even make it on the list of shittiest things to have happened to Allison in the last year and a half. Stiles squeezes her shoulder. 

"So, Stiles, I take your presence here means you're going to be with Allison through this?" he says, waiting for the confirming head-nod. "And I commend you for it. But I'm not sure you understand what this is going to entail. Do either of you have a plan yet for how you'll be keeping this from the wolves?" he asks, looking between them with raised eyebrows.

Allison looks at him in confusion, then looks at Stiles, lips parted as she tries to form words. She isn't the only one. She tilts her head as she tugs on her sleeve. "I don't understand."

"Well for one, we could move. I'm not going to turn you out, Allison, I should have said that first. I'm with you. And I have resources. So that might be the easiest plan, just to pack up and leave. Honestly there's not much reason to stay."

Allison gapes at him. "I have _every_ reason to stay," she insists as she leans forward. "Everything I have left is here. I'm not going anywhere."

Chris sighs, casting a sympathetic look at her. "Allison, I know you think what you have with Scott is special." And yeah, he still says it like he can't fathom the concept. "But werewolves… they don't tolerate infidelity. It's not in their makeup. They just can't handle it, especially not when it comes to offspring. You'll be in danger. Your _baby_ will be in danger if Scott or Derek finds out. Stiles, you too."

Stiles grinds his teeth at the words and shakes his head incredulously. Hunter propaganda at work again. 

"Dad, he already knows. About all of it," Allison says, tilting her head. "We're okay. He's okay."

Chris looks surprised, glancing at Stiles for confirmation. Chris's eyes linger on the relatively fresh scarring still healing on Stiles's jaw, not one to miss the details. 

Stiles lifts his eyebrows. "She's right. He's even waiting for us outside right now, you know, in case _you_ were the one who couldn't handle it and became dangerous."

Chris's face darkens and Allison nudges Stiles with her knee, giving him a speaking look. Stiles doesn't waver from his point. He's been on the receiving end of some Argent ruthlessness in his life too, after all.

Allison's father sighs, turning up his hands in surrender. "Fine. We know Scott cares deeply for Allison. But what about Derek? It's my understanding that you and he are…," he gestures, making a face.

"In love. I think that's the phrase you were searching for," Stiles cuts in, voice steady.

Chris tips his head in concession. "But he is more ruthless than Scott."

Stiles snorts. "I don’t think you know either of them as well as you think you do."

Allison purses her lips at him but doesn't disagree. "I told him this morning actually," Allison says. "And you're right. He and I aren't exactly on good terms. But he took it well I think," she says with a glance at Stiles.

"Actually he ah…," Stiles begins, then clears his throat. "He told me today that the baby is safe in the Hale pack. That they will make it an oath."

"An oath." Chris's eyebrows go up as he leans forward intently. "You're sure? He said that exact word?"

"Yeah," Stiles says. "Why? Does that mean something special? It does, doesn't it," he says when Chris's shoulders relax at the confirmation.

He glances at Allison and she's got tears spilling down her cheeks. Happy tears. She hugs him. "It means he'll protect our baby. For his or her whole life. No matter what."

"Jesus, Allison," he says with a laugh, releasing her with a little squeeze of her shoulders. "I'm pretty sure that would be true even without an oath."

"Not just him. The whole pack," she says. "It's… unprecedented."

"Not entirely," Chris admits with a tilt of his chin. "There's a lot of history for you to learn still sweetheart. Assuming…," he falters, face falling. 

"What, daddy?" Allison asks.

He glances down at his hands, rubbing a thumb against the palm of his other hand. "Assuming you still want to learn it. But it's time for me to start accepting that you and your life are going to follow your own path, regardless of what I may hope for. You're growing up. Are grown up. I guess I just didn't expect for it to happen so soon," he murmurs, sending her a wan smile.

"Dad," she says softly, slipping from the couch, and padding over to him. "Daddy."

He folds her up in his arms as she climbs into his lap. 

Stiles gets up when he hears sniffling tears, and soft shushing. "Okay. Allie, I'll call you later."

She turns a tearful face on him and smiles, swiping at her cheeks. "Thanks."

He tips her a lazy salute and shoves his hands in his pockets, making his way through the fancy beige-and-white living room into the front hall. He's glad Chris Argent is going to back Allison up, and not just for emotional reasons. The fancy house… their kid will have another financial safety net in Chris. 

Their kid. 

He shakes his head and opens the front door and makes his way out to the steps, closing it gently behind him.

Scott is still just standing there, at the curb, hands tucked in his pockets. He's staring through the wall like he can see through it, doesn't even look over when Stiles approaches. It was true that Scott had apologized for beating him half to death. Hell, he'd been the one to drive Stiles to the hospital after Allison had calmed his rage. But things weren't the same between them. Things weren't ever going to be the same. Then again, that was pretty much a fundamental truth of their lives.

"Hey," Stiles says drawing his blinking attention.

Scott looks at him a minute, then presses his lips into a semblance of a smile. "Hey." 

The smile fades quickly though. "She's crying," he says softly.

Stiles pulls a frown. "Yeah. I would call it good-crying though. I mean, on the scale of Allison tears, it's not so bad, really. Could be so much worse, dude."

Scott turns a sardonic look on him. "Really? That's what you're going with?"

Stiles cracks the edge of a grin, "What?"

"That's one step away from 'what else could go wrong?' or 'that was too easy'."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Oh come on, don't tell me you actually _believe_ that shit. It's just an overused storytelling trope based off a bit of biased thinking. An illusion of pattern where there is none. Brain's designed to make leaps like that," he says, wiggling some fingers at Scott's head.

Scott bats his fingers away with a grin. "You _say_ that, but the last time _I_ said something like that an arrow came flying out of nowhere; Kate had Allison to shoot Derek with her compound bow."

Stiles drops his chin back and rocks back on his heels. "I have literally nothing to say to that."

Scott grunts in agreement.

They stand there for a long time, staring at the house.

"You think we're going to be okay?" Stiles asks.

Scott shrugs, sending Stiles a wry smile. "You're asking me like I have any idea what's going to happen."

Stiles snorts. "I mean between you and me."

Scott sighs, "I don't know, man. But honestly?" he says, curling his mouth at Stiles. "I can't imagine us not being okay. Not in the long run. Like I told Allison, we're family. Nothing's gonna change that. I mean… a _baby_ , Stiles. You, Allison, me. And...," he shakes his head with a bitter-sweet smile, "And Derek. We're family. That's truer than ever now." 

He wonders if Derek sees it that way yet. Family. That he's part of this baby's family too.

"Yeah," he murmurs, kicking his foot out to bump the toe of his sneaker against the side of Scott's.

Scott makes a face at him and chucks a fist against his biceps. Stiles shoves his shoulder in return, then scampers back when Scott turns toward him with a mischievous grin, hands coming up. 

"No werewolf powers!" he blurts, grinning. 

But Scott just wraps him up in a hug, which he returns, hard. It lasts a long time, till Stiles feels something hard in his chest loosen. Something he'd been carrying around a while.

Because Scott was exactly right.

_Family_

He lets him go finally, smiling faintly. "Okay. I'm going to go. See if Derek…," he falters, then clears his throat. "I'm going to go see Derek." 

Scott purses his lips and nods in understanding. "Yeah. Good."

"Let me know if she…," he says, gesturing vaguely at the Argent house.

"Yeah."

 

-o0o-

 

"Get in, fucker," Stiles orders as he pulls the jeep to a skidding halt in front of Derek. He's surprised to see him. It had been a school night last night, and Stiles didn't stay over on school nights anymore, not for the last few months. He was determined to finish high school with flying colors so he could take the deputy's exam in good stead. 

Derek didn't _like_ not waking up next to his mate, but he understood it. 

He'd been walking to the coffee shop on the corner like he does most mornings around this time. Derek lifts an eyebrow, crossing his arms across his chest, gazing at Stiles through the open window with a bemused half-frown.

Stiles looks edgy, even more so than usual, fingers tapping fast and hard against the steering wheel of the jeep as he makes an impatient face at Derek. Stiles is not upset, though it's on the tip of Derek's tongue to ask about Allison and the baby. But clearly, nothing is _wrong_. The term of endearment alone is enough to tell him that. 

He considers refusing. Just for the sake of stubbornness. Just to see Stiles groan and roll his eyes and scramble over to pester him till he capitulated. But when Stiles glances at him furtively with unfathomable eyes, he decides against it, dropping his hands and climbing into the jeep without comment.

"Give me your wallet," Stiles says, holding out his hand. 

Derek tilts his head back a moment, but lifts his rear off the seat to retrieve it and hands it over. Stiles flips it open, glances at it, then closes it and tosses it into his lap. He puts the jeep in gear and accelerates, apparently satisfied with whatever he'd seen there. 

They pull away fast. A shade too fast. Stiles's leg is jiggling against the door as he drives between gear changes, eyes shifting around the road a little too attentively. His mouth is a thin line. His heart and breath are elevated. Just a little. Just enough to have Derek frowning. 

It's early, just shy of 9 am. He doesn't point out that Stiles is going to be missing school. He just looks at him instead, puzzling it over. Stiles is wearing his usual jeans and tee with his nice-but-not-trying blazer. It's no different from any other day really, but Derek can smell the fresh, crisp scents of soap and shaving cream and toothpaste. And a drop of cologne that has been donned, scrubbed away, and reapplied again. Like he was fussing.

There were, of course, mundane reasons for him to be a little done-up. "Happy birthday," he says softly, and Stiles's gaze shifts to him sharply. Derek doesn't miss the miniscule flick Stiles's eyes make down to the space between them before he turns his gaze back on Derek. He offers Derek a tense smile that softens into something genuine the longer he gazes at him. At least until he has to look back to the road.

The funny thing he has learned about Stiles being upset like this is that it makes Derek calm. Makes him want to be like a deep, steady current to Stiles's choppy surface. Sometimes it even worked. Sometimes it was calming when he put a hand at the back of Stiles's neck or waist like an anchor, enough to let the roughest edges slip away. Regardless, he found a peace when he was around Stiles that he had never found anywhere else.

Like now. Derek settles back in the seat, looking at him calmly. He looks down at the seat between them, where Stiles has his own wallet, sitting half-folded over a stack of cash and some paper. Old paper. He tilts his head to read. 

A birth certificate. Stiles's birth certificate.

"Where we going?" he asks eventually, although he thinks, perhaps, he already knows… 

Stiles licks his lips. Takes a tight breath before he glances over at him as he says, "Courthouse. County clerk's office."

Derek frowns, nodding slowly. If Stiles were a werewolf, he'd be able to hear the spike of Derek's heartbeat at the confirmation, the generally calm exterior he manages. He scrubs his fingers over his mouth, taking a slow breath. Closing his eyes he lets it filter through, lets it brush along the deep calm he's holding against Stiles's nerves. It settles heavy and smooth in his chest. Surprisingly so. Surprisingly easy. He turns it over slowly, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling of the jeep. Smiles faintly at the claw marks that still remain. Some are his. Some of them not even from some life-or-death situation.

"Pull over," he says quietly. 

"Derek," Stiles begins. "Don't-"

"Stiles. _Pull over_." 

Stiles heaves a sigh, and then smacks the heel of his hand against the steering wheel before pushing in the clutch and pulling over to the side of the road.

He lets the engine idle a moment, gear shift wobbling in his hand as he wavers between first gear and neutral. Then he leaves it in neutral and kills the engine.

"I just… I want you to believe me. That I choose you. To have proof, forever. And I know what you're going to say. You're going to say 'nothing's forever, Stiles,'" he intones, dropping his voice low to imitate Derek, who huffs a half-breath laugh and lifts an eyebrow at him. But Stiles waggles his index finger and makes a sound of disagreement. "Except I've been thinking about it. And I think that some things are. I mean, yeah, things change. Things change all the damn time," he says, thumbs drumming on the steering wheel again. "We know that better than anyone. But this, it's like, no one could ever change the fact that it _happened_ , the same way nobody can ever change that we've lost people, or all the things we've done, you know? It's permanent," he says with a sharp gesture, "the same way those things are permanent. I want to be that for you. And I don't want you to dismiss it out of hand, I want you to really think-"

He puts a hand to the back of Stiles's neck, turns his face to him and leans in, setting his mouth to Stiles's. Soft and steady. Slow. Soothing Stiles's many arguments into a pliant curve.

And when Stiles's fingers slip off the steering wheel he lifts his head a little. "Okay," he says against his lips, then sits back in his seat, letting go of his face with a caress of thumb.

Stiles stares at him, mouth hanging open. He closes it with a snap, and then glances out the windshield a moment, before turning his gaze back on Derek and swiping a hand over his mouth. "Really?"

Derek gestures at the car with a flick of eyebrows and chin that say 'well, get on with it.'

"Right. Okay," Stiles says, flinging himself back into action, starting the car and pulling away from the curb.

The Sheriff is waiting for them in the hallway outside the clerk's door, looking stern in his uniform. But the grumpy cast of his face falters as Stiles strides straight over to him and wraps him into a hug. He responds with a hard squeeze, a look of love passing over his features so deep that it makes Derek's heart ache before setting him back by his shoulders. Shaking his head at his son with a wry expression, he glances over at Derek. 

He turns his gaze back to his son, releasing his shoulders. "Son, go get something to drink."

"Nah, I'm good Dad," he says, grinning.

His father just lifts an eyebrow at him until he starts, hands flailing as he spins on his heel. "Right. Getting a drink," he says, lifting his eyebrows at Derek before he strides away down the hall towards the water fountain in the distance.

Derek just stands there with his hands hanging at his sides. He doesn't know what to do with them.

Eventually the Sheriff walks over to him and eyes him for a long moment, face completely impenetrable. 

"I don't need to remind you that I'm the Sheriff, do I? Or that I have several guns. And am highly resourceful in _protecting_ the community."

"No sir," Derek says. 

Then slowly he offers his hand, which Derek takes in a firm handshake.

"Congratulations," he says. "I can't say I understand it, but…," he sighs, shaking his head. "Well, there are a lot of things I don't really understand these days, so that isn't much different. But I do know that you're good for each other. I've seen that these past months. And I… well, I wish you the best together."

Derek opens his mouth, but realizes he has no idea what he should say. So he just nods firmly, ducking his gaze in embarrassment.

"My son _has_ actually _asked_ you to marry him, hasn't he?" the Sheriff asks, eyebrow cocked in dry amusement.

Derek hesitates, and the Sheriff turns his gaze skyward. "Of course not. What was I thinking. _Stiles_!" he shouts.

"What?" Stiles responds, twisting around from the water fountain look at them, grinning hugely. 

"Aren't you forgetting something?" the Sheriff asks, tipping his head significantly towards Derek as Stiles scurries back towards them.

"What?"

"Something like, I don't know, _asking_ your fiancé if he wants to be your fiancé?"

"Oh. Um. It was implied?" Stiles offers, glancing over at Derek with a sheepish expression. Derek just laughs under his breath at the ridiculousness of the entire morning. It is so perfectly Stiles.

The Sheriff clears his throat significantly.

"Oh my god," Stiles sighs heavily, groaning as he turns away, hands scrubbing over his head. Then, just as quickly, he turns back, grabbing Derek's hand and kneeling theatrically. 

Derek sighs.

"Derek Hale," Stiles intones, "my broody, damaged, secretly hilarious, tight-jean-wearing-"

"Oh for the love of," the Sheriff mutters. Stiles just makes a face at him before pulling Derek's hand closer to plaster against his heart as he continues.

"Completely badass, eyebrows-of-doom-bearing, resilient, stubborn, werewolf alpha boyfriend," he says, looking up at him with a stupid perfect grin. "Will you marry me?"

The door opens, and a woman in a rather hideous suit looks them over skeptically, and then asks, "Misters Stilinski and Hale?"

Derek looks back down at Stiles, who is staring up at him with a suddenly open and vulnerable face, eyes tracking back and forth over his features, heart pounding under Derek's palm as he awaits his answer.

Then Derek smiles, and curls the fingers of the hand pressed against his heart into the fabric there and tugs Stiles to his feet. He jerks his blazer back into place, smoothing the fabric down before lifting a speaking eyebrow at him. Then he turns and walks towards the County Clerk's office as he tosses over his shoulder, "Well, you'll just have to come find out, won't you?"

 

-o0o-

 

The reception party is a surprise to both of them, much to Allison's pleasure. The Sheriff had called her as soon as the ceremony had been completed while they went out for celebratory banana splits. She'd called Lydia immediately, who had insisted that she would handle everything. And since it was Lydia, Allison didn't doubt her for a minute. Lo and behold, six hours later the Stilinski back yard had a cook serving up barbecue along with hors d'oeuvres being catered, a DJ, and astonishingly, a wedding cake. 

The looks on Stiles and Derek's faces (which Allison had snapped a photo of) as they had come out into the back yard, had been priceless. They hadn't invited many people, mostly just the pack and family and a few friends from school, but it was good. 

Scott scowls even more fiercely at Derek than usual for a while when the new couple comes over, but Allison is having none of it and throws her arms around all of them, bumping them with her belly and pressing a smacking kiss to all three available cheeks. 

There's dancing and toasts, and even cake-cutting (which devolves into a gigantic food fight). Later, Stiles asks Allison to dance. She warns him that she'll basically be waddling, but he doesn't care. So like middle-schoolers, they dance slow and far apart in concession to her belly.

"This is good," she says.

"Yeah," he agrees, smiling fondly at the yard full of family and friends.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me," she says, punching Stiles's shoulder.

"Ow," he grumbles playfully, rubbing the spot. "Yeah well I was so nervous I almost didn't even tell _Derek_ ," he mutters.

"You're kidding," she says, voice flat.

"Nope. I didn't even officially ask him until we were literally at the County Clerk's office door."

She looks at him suspiciously. "Then how did you get the marriage license ahead of time?"

He grins. "Internet application. And info from Derek's police file."

She gasps out a scandalized laugh. "You're _terrible_." She also doesn't miss the way Derek turns his face to the sky across the yard, then casts a pained expression over Stiles's way.

"Yeaaaaah…," Stiles sighs, still grinning smugly. "Good thing he likes me that way."

Allison tugs on his ear. "Well you're worth it," she says firmly. 

"Aww, thanks my beautiful baby-mama!"

She groans. "I swear to god if you call me that one more time…"

"What? It's true. You're all sorts of beautiful."

She just laughs again, shaking her head in bemusement. 

"You know…," he begins, then glances over to look at Scott who is currently busy arm-wrestling Boyd. "That online application is remarkably easy. I could show it to you if you want," he whispers.

She bites her lip and glances over at Scott. "Maybe. You think he'd…"

"In a heartbeat." But then he grins at her and shrugs. "Of course, I'm a happily married man now. It's now my sacred duty to try to convince everyone else to join the ranks."

"Naturally," she says with mock seriousness.

"Jesus. I really am, aren't I," Stiles says, shaking his head. "I'm married. And you're having a freaking baby."

"Yeah. Crazy, isn't it?" she says. "Being an adult is like, literally insane." 

"Tell me about it. Also, I feel the need to point out that your boobs are huge!" he says, complete with illustrative gestures.

She laughs and rolls her eyes before looking down at her admittedly quite-full chest. For once. She gives an experimental little shoulder-shimmy and shakes her head at the result. Then glances up and shoves at Stiles's shoulder. "Oh quit staring at our daughter's lunch. That's just weird."

He laughs, then goes suddenly still, and she runs over her words till she realizes. "Oh. Yeah, I meant to mention. I went to the doctor again today for a check-up because I was feeling funny. But everything's fine," she says quickly, waving her hands when he pales. "Nothing was wrong at all and I feel fine now. But they did a sonogram this time and…"

"It's a girl," Stiles finishes for her.

"Yeah."

Derek nears, probably having sensed Stiles's momentary distress. Stiles turns to - to his _husband_ and blurts, "It's a girl. We're having a girl."

Derek smiles softly, then slips an arm around Stiles and kisses his temple. "Congratulations."

"Oh god, I've got to tell my dad," he says, grabbing Derek's hand and darting away a pace before he spins back. "And you're really okay? Everything's fine?" he asks.

"Everything's fine," she assures him. He grins and squeezes her shoulder before disappearing into the crowd to go spread the news.

 

As the sun sets, Scott comes to sit beside her on the porch swing bench, slipping an arm around her shoulders.  
She smiles as he sets his hand on her belly, palm warm through the light sundress she is wearing. 

"I love you," he murmurs, leaning his head on her shoulder and closing his eyes as they swing slowly back and forth.

"I love you more," she says softly, stroking his hair back from his face.

"I love you infinity," he mumbles.

She smiles down at his face in repose. "Yeah."

She watches the newlyweds dance slowly to the quiet music, arms around each other as they slow-step, lost to the world. The rest of the pack and remaining friends are laying about the back yard in various states of exhaustion after plenty of dancing and shenanigans. The Sheriff and Melissa are sitting together at the other end of the yard, watching Stiles and Derek dance.

At least, the Sheriff is watching the boys. Melissa is gazing at her and Scott, a bitter-sweet smile on her face. Noticing Allison's attention, she lifts her fingers in a tiny wave, and after a moment, Allison returns it, along with a complicated smile of her own. 

No. None of it's going to be easy, but everything they have is built on a foundation of love.

That's gotta count for something.

 

-o0o-

 

"Whoa. No," he blurts, running down the hall to the base of the stairs to stop her from going any further. 

"Stiles." 

"No-no-no-no. No, you know full well that the doc says you need to rest as in _bed_ rest till your due date, not as in 'only training like a badass for half days'."

"I haven't been outside for _days_ now. My back is aching like _crazy_ from laying in bed so much and the due date is a week away. I need air. I need to _shoot_ something."

"Yeah well, too bad," he says flippantly, shooing her with his hands. "You will lay down and we'll open a window."

"Damnit, Stiles," she growls. 

He sticks out his chin and smushes his lips together as he shakes his head. "Nope. My baby-mama is _so_ not scary." 

"Lies," Allison mutters, crossing her arms over her swollen belly. 

He blows out his lips. "Totally. But yeah," he says as he plops his hands down on her shoulders and turns her back around to march her back to her bedroom. "Get thee to a beddery." 

" _So_ not Ophelia _ever_ in _any_ sense," she snaps.

"Also very true. More of a-,"

"Don't you _even dare_ ," she grits, reaching up and grabbing the fingers still sitting on her shoulder, twisting his thumb sharply.

"Unique individual," he finishes with a squeak. "Yep. Completely and totally unique."

"Ow," Allison says.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying. Ow-ow-ow," Stiles replies as he twists under the grip of her fingers.

"No. No as in _oh my fuck that really hurts_!" Allison gasps, letting him go and curling over her abdomen.

"Oh. OH! Fuck," he says, jerking back to stare at her as there's a faint sound and then liquid starts gushing down from under her dress. "Um. Fuck. Allison! Did that just… okay," Stiles blurts, slipping an arm around her back to stabilize her when she sways, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

"Lydia? It's time."

"Water break?"

"Yeah. It's clear."

"Understood. Remember, stay calm and stick to the plan," comes the reply, followed by her hanging up the phone. 

Operation: holy-shit-we're-having-a-baby was officially underway.

"Okay," he says, taking a deep breath as Allison straightens. "Okay, you want a change of clothes?" he asks as he helps her back down the steps and over to the nearest chair, which she leans against instead of sitting on.

"Yeah. And your phone. I want to call Scott."

"Okay," he says, and hands it off before taking to the stairs - one at a time, mind you, despite the urge to run. 

They could do this.

They _would_ do this.

 

-o0o-

 

"You do realize that the last part of the story is literally just us screaming 'fuck' at each other at varying intervals until she's born," Stiles says to Allison.

"There had to be more to it than that," Hayley says, glancing suspiciously between her parents. 

"No that's pretty much it," Allison agrees, shrugging as she adds, "Though we did manage to confuse the hell out of the nurses on the way in."

Stiles grins. "Yeah, they asked Scott if he was the father, and he was all 'no', because he forgets he can lie, so they wouldn't let him in."

Scott laughs and shakes his head. "And they let Stiles in because he _was_ the father, but then I remembered that I was _married_ to Allison so I was allowed in there." 

"But then _Derek_ comes along and they're like 'No! No way. There can't be any more dudes back here!'" Allison adds. "I tried to explain it but I was too busy having contractions, and Scott was too busy freaking out, and Stiles was busy arguing with the on-call obstetrician, trying to prevent him from doing an episiotomy-"

"Which argument I _won_ , thank you very much."

"And I am eternally grateful," Allison says with an eyeroll. "Anyway, because of all that, they said Derek _had_ to wait outside." 

Stiles casts a smug glance back at Derek, who arches an eyebrow at him. "But that didn't work very well, did it?"

"They were persuaded otherwise," Derek agrees. 

"So you really were all there when I was born?" Hayley asks, running her fingers over the photo of the five of them in the hospital room, Derek and Scott both conveniently 'blinking' - or in Scott's case, grinning so widely his eyes crinkled shut.

"That's right kiddo," Stiles says, tugging on one of her plaits affectionately. "Four parents. Right from the beginning."

"Cool," she whispers, then sets the book aside again. She glances over her shoulder at the excited squeal of one of her siblings and grins. 

"Thank you," she says, blowing a kiss at them before turning and running after the others shouting with mock seriousness, "Hey! Who authorized you to have so much fun on _my_ birthday?" as she scoops up Brennan, her littlest sister to twirl her around in a circle to a hail of giggles.

"There goes the Sheriff's daughter," Scott says with a fond laugh.

"Think I can deputize her? I swear, she's got more command presence than half the rookies."

Derek snorts in agreement.

"Maybe in a decade," Allison replies with a mild look.

One of the boys roars like a dinosaur as he chases some of the others past the couches the adults are sitting on.

"Oh my god, how do we have so many children?" Stiles groans.

 

Allison laughs. "Well," she says, waggling suggestive eyebrows at Scott before she tips her gaze over to Stiles. "Fuck isn't our mantra for nothing."


End file.
